Page 2 of Kings & Chaos

It was a point of contention. My near-death at the cabin had put a lot into perspective, and the biggest thing of all was that the Kings had been right: I had to be able to protect myself.

And I couldn’t do that tiptoeing around, stealing the Kings’ guns when I felt like I was in danger, because I was pretty sure it had been established that being in danger was a default state for me at Aventine.

I’d woken up the three days after the fire and demanded a weapon, but the Kings had other ideas.

“Slow down, kitten,” he said. “This was a good session, but let’s get a few more under your belt.”

“A few more and I’ll probably be dead,” I muttered.

“You know we’re not going to let that happen. We’ve taken care of you so far, haven’t we?”

That was the million-dollar question, and unfortunately for me, the answer was complicated. Because yes, the Kings had kept me safe. They’d saved my ass twice — first when Neo found me in the woods at the quarry and then at the cabin.

But there was also the issue of the security tape I’d found, the one with Emma approaching the Kings’ house on the night of her disappearance, Neo grabbing her arm, terror written all over her face.

I wasn’t entirely sure why I hadn’t called them on it. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to know, because I’d started to actually like them, Rock and Oscar anyway. Or maybe it was because I knew they’d just spin more bullshit, putting me off with vague explanations and promises to tell me more later, which was what they’d done so far.

Maybe it just felt like an insurance policy — one piece of information they didn’t know I had, something I might be able to use to figure out what had happened to Emma.

“Wow,” Rock said. I looked up into his ridiculously gorgeous face as he rubbed at the blond scruff on his jawline. “I kind of thought that question about taking care of you was a softball.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I was thinking about something else.”

“So?” he prompted. “Do you trust us?”

He was talking about the gun, about the Kings’ insistence that I learn how to fire one before having one of my own, but for me, the question was loaded with a different meaning.

“Obviously,” I said, trying to make it sound obvious when the issue of the Kings and trust swirled like a deadly whirlpool in my mind.

“Whew,” he said with a grin. “You had me worried there for a second. We’ll get you a weapon of your own when using it feels like second nature, and we’ll keep coming to the range, so that’ll be no time at all.”

“Great.” I said it because that’s what he wanted to hear, but I was already plotting other ways to protect myself.

Because if the Kings thought I was going to sit around and wait for someone else to come for me, they didn’t know me at all. Dean Giordana was dead, but there had been at least one other man willing to bury me in an unmarked grave, and my gut said he was just the tip of the iceberg.

“Come on.” Rock slung his arm over my shoulders and I hated that his scent and the closeness of his enormous perfect body made me wet when I was supposed to be not trusting him. “Let’s grab some food. I’m famished.”

He wasn’t the only one. And I wasn’t thinking about food.

Chapter2

Willa

Iassumed we’d go to one of the fancy bistros in Blackwell Falls that catered to the parents of local college kids, but when Rock pulled the Audi to a stop, it was in front of a run-down bar three blocks from the Orpheum. A faded sign hung above a door covered in peeling green paint:SCREAMIN’ SYD’S.

A handful of bikers stood around a bunch of gleaming motorcycles. I tried to make out the words and images on their vests, covered in patches and insignias, and couldn’t.

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to be in this part of town,” I said.

“Not when you’re alone.” Rock slung his arm over my shoulders and stroked my upper arm, and I had a sudden memory of unapologetically dry-humping him in the front seat outside the Queens’ house. He gave me one of his disarming grins. “But you’re not alone.”

Fuck me.

Why couldn’t he and Oscar be the asswipes I’d expected before I’d really known them? And why did I still want to fuck him into next Sunday after what I’d seen on the security tape?

“What is this place?” I asked, peering through the place’s lone window and trying to get my mind off doing the nasty with Rock Barone.

“Screamin’ Syd’s,” he said, like that was supposed to mean something to me.

---